


Feverish Dream

by chocolate_velvet



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Bar, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Mind Sex, Violence, cage fight, mild heterosexual sexual content (implied), subsconcious mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 04:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10325936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolate_velvet/pseuds/chocolate_velvet
Summary: When Logan had an argument with Charles, he tried to unwind using means familiar to him.





	

Logan threw a book at Charles. There was nothing particular, it was just something he got his hand on during their heated argument. Logan had done what he had familiar to do to get his meanings across. But this time, he dealt with Charles, not some mindless souls in a dingy bar. The book missed Charles, it fell on the floor with a soft thud. Charles looked into his eyes with calculated coldness. It sent chills into Logan’s spine.

Logan felt the mind went blank. It was the first time since the two months he spent living in the mansion. There was no connection, no sound, nothing. It felt like Charles had hung up his phone on him. There was a creepy silence lingering in the room.

Without words, Charles has made it clear that he disapproved Logan’s action. Logan knew it, without a word, but there was something inside him that refused to acknowledge. So, he turned his back and stormed out of the Office, out from the Mansion into the wilderness.

The soft grumbles from his bike was the only music he heard on the road. The night chill bit his skin but nothing compared to Charles’ cold glare that was still clawing his soul. He needed to unwind, preferably with a strong liquor and something else.

He knew a bar, the kind of bar he used to frequent. It had all kinds of things that he used to like; cage fights, cheap cigar, extremely strong liquor, and babes. Logan forgot the last time he visited, must be a long time ago.

But might be not so long ago. Some still remembered him, greeted and talked to him with a tone of friendliness. Logan played along. His purpose was to scrub clean the remains of Charles Xavier. A bulky man came to him, asking him whether he was up for a fight. The usual thing.

Logan drained the liquor from his glass, the taste burned his tongue and throat but failed to ignite his heart and mind.

“Sure, Bub.” he heard himself. He knew he would fight in autopilot mode.

As he entered the cage, he heard the crowd cheer and the rustling of crumpled bills. He unscrewed a fresh bottle and took a swing. Again, the liquor failed to erase the taste of Charles.

His opponent was a man much bigger than him. He had a neck at was almost as big as Logan’s thigh and his fists were massive. Logan wiped the liquor off his mouth and put the bottle on a safe corner.

“WHY DON’T YOU LET ME GO, CHARLES!!”

The crowds cheered, though they hardly knew the meaning behind his words, nor they care.

Everything happened on front of him so quickly. He felt like he was watching himself fight without any will to control himself. His opponent took the first chance, swung his massive arms to Logan’s jaw. He wanted a quick fight. His knuckles met adamantium. The greater the force, the worse the injury. The crowds cheered to the nasty sound of broken bones. Logan hit him once more, knocking the man unconscious.

Logan massaged his fists. He heard people cheering, shouting, and raising their bets. He did not care. He took another swing. His eyes darted to a couple of noisy drunkard outside the cage. He wished he could be as drunk as them.

There was another man entered the cage. This time was smaller than him. Soon, Logan found out that this one was smarter. He managed to gave a good fight, even punched Logan, before being knocked out unconscious. The night carried on with other men. One by one had to be carried out of the cage.

Logan was left with an empty bottle and a void in his heart. He sat on the bar. Through squinting eyes, he watched the barmaid. Tall, broad, and middle aged hard. But she had a kind smile and youthful energy. A beautiful set and gorgeous peroxide blonde hair.

“Charles had brown wavy hair.”

His head drooped lower as he reached for his bottle, meant to take another swing but it was already empty. He missed the mass of brown hair on his palm.

The barmaid pushed a glass of whiskey toward him.

“On the house.” She whispered with a slight innuendo.

You are nothing but a mess in a rich man’s basement, howling for nothing, he said to himself. You just messed up with one but now you’re going to start another one. As soon as he emptied the glass, she quickly refilled it.

Logan gave a gesture to thank her. He remembered Charles was shorter and weighted light as feathers. He carried him from room to room, like a newlywed couple.

When the last call bell sounded, she came down to his end of the bar. Her face was flushed, she’d worked hard all night. She smiled at him, her crooked teeth adding to her earthy allure.

“You’ve outdone yourself tonight.”

He shrugged, lonely, sad and confused.

“Let me take you home.” Her tone was sweet and gentle, an offer of single serving love, warmth, and attention.

To Logan, she was the perfect distraction. Logan glanced at the door, waiting for a particular person to walk in. When he saw the door remained closed, he looked at her closer and smiled. He let her to take his hand. Logan slumped on the passenger seat as she drove him into a nameless motel off the highway.

But his mind wandered beyond the highway. The rule was clear for him that it was him who had to crawl back to the Mansion. Charles would never come after quarrel. If he had, he would’ve had flown to Erik’s arms. Logan looked at the barmaid once again. He tried to think about her deep crevice and her soft warm curves but failed. At last, he laid on his back and let instinct to take the course. Logan closed his eyes, his mind began drifting to a faraway land.

He closed his eyes. In his arms, he held a body, warm and soft. His fingers gripped the shirt, made of the softest cotton and warmed by the body’s heat. He smelled a faint scent of lavender. He removed the shirt gently, though he wanted to rip it.

He had ripped the handsome and costly shirt in the past. The metallic buttons scattered on the floor. Charles only gave him a sheepish grin in return. Though he still had a closet full of other expensive shirts, he sent Logan to Sak’s on the next morning to get him a new one. Logan thought everything would have been concluded when he returned to the Mansion with a new shirt, but it was not the case. In the afternoon, when Charles was teaching a public lecture outside, Erik came to the Mansion. He pushed the parcel to Logan. The words printed “For Charles From Erik.”

“Tell him to take care this time.” It was all Erik had said before he walked out of the Mansion.

The parcel contained three brand new shirts, identical to the one Logan had ripped. His blood boiled hot enough to melt his adamantium.

Logan took a deep breath. He wanted to drown into his own weight. Blindly, he felt his way along the smoothness of the pale skin and the firm muscles and basked in the waterfall of messy brown hair. When he was spent, he surrendered into the deepest slumber. Yet, his dream was disturbed by deserted road, scotching sun, and Charles’ voice.

When he woke up, he was naked in bed and alone. When Charles wheeled toward his bed, Logan was speechless. Without saying a word, he put his clothes on and let Charles took him outside the room.

On the drive home, he fell asleep in the back seat. But his sleep was restless and plagued by unnamed memories. When his mind finally found peace, he dreamed on a castle, enchanted garden, and another person laying on top of him. But this time it was not the beautiful barmaid.


End file.
